


... never a groom

by snottygrrl



Series: reception series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-13
Updated: 2004-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snottygrrl/pseuds/snottygrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ron and hermione are getting married. harry can't tie his bowtie. harry's pov</p>
            </blockquote>





	... never a groom

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:** ust flangst,  
>  **disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
>  This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.  
>  **author's notes:** this plot bunny bit me while i was working as a dresser on a show a bit ago. i spent an inordinate amount of time fixing ties on a gorgeous young thing. gratitude and kisses to my lovely betas, [](http://phenix-tears.livejournal.com/profile)[**phenix_tears**](http://phenix-tears.livejournal.com/) (plus spouse) and mrs_figby. i am so spoiled.

It is warm and stuffy in the twins' old room at the Burrow today, the day that Ron and Hermione will finally, _finally_ , be married. I should be glad of the fine weather for the wedding, but instead I am silently cursing Hermione for insisting on Muggle formal wear. I am beginning to sweat and I'm sure I look silly in this get-up. However, I keep struggling with the bowtie, as I have been for the last 15 minutes, and sigh.

Neville gives me a sympathetic look before he leaves me alone at the full-length mirror. I watch as his reflection crosses through the chaotic room at George's bidding. He pats Ron reassuringly on the way past and gives Seamus a go-and-help-him look. Amazingly Seamus takes the cue, moving to aid the flustered red head. He cracks a joke and pins a rose to Ron's lapel.

I return to my task, unable to keep in another frustrated sigh as I try again with the silk at my neck. A stillness at the edge of the mirror catches my eye. Leaning against the window ledge is Draco and I stare at his elegant grace that looks so at home in the rich clothing.

I avoid being in the same room with Draco. It used to be because I hated him. Now it is because I'm afraid he'll see how much I want him. It seems I always have a strong emotion when it comes to the blond aristocrat. From the moment we met at Madam Malkin's, to this day, I've had him under my skin.

At first I despised him for his arrogance and smugness (though I've always admired his intelligence and conviction, even when I told myself otherwise). We fought constantly with fists and words and wands. However, as I got older, much to my dismay, my libido recognized how beautiful he was. By 6th year I began keeping my distance, even forgoing our usual trade of insults, so I wouldn't have to admit to myself how badly I wanted to bed the Prince of Slytherin. I was galled to think I could want someone who had always seemed to embody everything I hated.

And then everything shifted yet, in some ways, stayed the same. Draco changed sides. He was still arrogant, still cocky, but now he was fighting against Voldemort. Our battles were no longer between each other. We went to war side by side, but we still moved warily about each other. I learned to value Draco's certainty and stubbornness. I learned to respect and trust him. But it wasn't until the final battle, when he faced down his father and was very nearly killed, when I realised just how much he mattered to me. How afraid I was when I thought we'd lost him. When I thought _I'd_ lost him.

After the war, Draco became part of my circle of friends. He fits in with an ease that belies the previous animosity of our childhoods, jesting with Ron and Seamus, chatting with Neville and Hermione. Yet he is always politely cool, pleasantly indifferent to me. And me? I've fallen for him hard. I'd never tell him, I wouldn't want to embarrass him or make him feel like I expected anything in return. But when I am near him now, the need to touch him is almost unbearable, so I just make sure I am as far away from him as is feasible without being rude.

But here I am fumbling with my tie and here he is looking cool and regal and absolutely stunning in that Muggle tuxedo. For a moment I let myself imagine what it would be like to take him back to my flat later and help him remove it. The image is so compelling I almost groan before I remember where I am.

I pull my thoughts back to the room and realise with growing horror that I have been staring at Draco for a while now, and that amused grey eyes are looking into my green ones. He is smirking his Malfoy smirk, and he raises one of his eyebrows. I quickly avert my gaze and watch my reflection slowly blush. I am mortified at what he must be thinking.

I've never allowed myself to believe that Draco could be interested in me despite what Hermione says. She started hinting long ago that we'd make a great couple. It was sometime shortly before Draco and Ron were partnered together at the ministry and after she had figured out we were both single and gay.

Her 'hints' have gotten more blatant lately.

"Come on Harry," she started in the other day, "You have to admit you're a perfect match. Two of the most powerful wizards of our generation, both used to dealing with notoriety, both good looking."

I rolled my eyes. "A match made in heaven." Draco had spent years hating me and though things had changed with the war, it is obvious that Draco finds me to be some sort of benign mascot that he regards with amused tolerance and I said as much.

Hermione gave a disgusted snort. "Harry Potter, I didn't think even you could be so dense. Most people go their whole lives without having the kind of energy you two generate when you are within 10 feet of each other. The strength of emotion between the pair of you can never be classified as mere forbearance."

Returning my attention to the present, I realise with a sort of dreaded fascination that Draco is prowling up behind me like some sensuous jungle cat intent on his prey. My eyes are glued to his sinuous approach, his sleek body, the wanton look in his eyes My mind is racing as I flip between incredulity, hope, fear and unadulterated lust.

He stops so near to me that we are almost touching and I can't stop my body from swaying even closer to him. I'm mesmerized as I watch his reflection lean forward and softly say, "Can I help you with that?" His voice is low and sultry and I can feel his breath on my face. I stare at the heat in his eyes and hear myself whimper. Shocked, I wrench my gaze away and am dismayed to find I am biting my bottom lip.

I am surprised by the sound of a barely audible groan emanating from the gorgeous blond behind me. I notice his left hand clenching and unclenching, the only sign that he is trying to stop his body from doing something else. My focus flies back to his face, my eyes wide with the thought that Draco Malfoy could actually want me. He looks slightly glazed for a moment, as if he is watching his own private scene. His cheeks are flushed and his breath hitches just before he begins to move around me, gliding in front of me, blocking the mirror, our bodies brushing.

I stand stock still, paralyzed by the hope blossoming within my chest.

"Here. Let me."

His voice is tight with suppressed emotion as he begins to reach for the fabric around my neck. It is only then that I realise I have been uselessly clutching my tie the whole time. I quickly release it, and our hands bump against each other. The jolt of electricity from the touch causes me to gasp. I want to rest my hands around his waist to steady them and myself, but drop them to my side instead.

Draco is running his fingers around my collar, rearranging the mangled silk. Heat is pooling in my groin and I can feel like my heart beating wildly. This is amazingly intimate and hedonistic thoughts are flashing through my brain. I've never had anyone do anything like this for me. I can't even remember someone aiding me in tying my shoes, let alone helping me dress. If I hadn't already been in love with Draco, this single erotic act would have done it.

I watch his face as he concentrates on the task, my eyes drawn to his sumptuous lips. He is so close I would barely have to move to kiss him. I'm suddenly aware that Draco has finished and is reluctantly moving his hands away. I realise I am still fixated on his mouth, and I raise my eyes. The raw need in his stops my breath. I am drowning. I have no idea where I am or what I am doing. I am only aware of Draco and my desire.

For an instant I think that he is going to kiss me.

"Oy, are we having this wedding or what? Would you blokes get your arses downstairs?"

The sound of George's voice returns me to reality with a crash. Feeling foolish, I quickly move to follow the twin, mumbling some inane thanks to Draco. I am berating myself for thinking the blond's simple act of aid to an inept Gryffindor could have any sexual content, when I glance over at him. Draco is looking at me with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, as if he is the cat and I am the cream. With that image, the thought arises that perhaps the reception is going to be more interesting than I ever imagined. I feel myself grin widely as I hurry after Ron.

~fin


End file.
